[Intro: Fat Joe]
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Ollie ollie oxen free!
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Like one, two, three
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Red light, green light, one, two, three
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Yo I pop six boxes, play some scalezes
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Pitch the ball I'ma smack that shit
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Yeah, ohhhhhh, going.. going
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Yeah yeah what up son?
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Yo I got this twenty two nigga play me like..
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Nah, I ain't got no bullets
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Yeah yeah yeah yeah
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Top two for five, three for five, we rollin!
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[Fat Joe]
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Now I'm in too deep
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Only sixteen already hold a name in the street
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Makin the fifth scream, rockin older niggas to sleep
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Make a fiend strip naked cuz he owed for a week
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Now the Squad's getting recognized, supplyin connects with pies
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Pumpin pounds of weight, nigga like exercise
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Joe been over quarter five dope and homicide
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Long before Charlie got knocked, until Madonna died
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Young and not givin a fuck
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There ain't a nigga I ain't hit when I buck and left 'em shit outta luck
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I'ma gangsta like my daddy was, hittin number spots
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Sendin me to my room while he was puffin pot
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Still I use to peak from the door, couldn't believe what I saw
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Stacks of money on the bed and the floor
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It wasn't long til I did what he did
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I was an innocent kid and got exposed to the life that he lived
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I went from grams into O's, pounds to bricks
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On the strip pimpin hoes on some goldie shit
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I'ma gangsta by destiny, OG's selected me
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I earned my spot, my whole team elected me
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[Chorus: children singing]
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Gangsta, gangsta
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I wanna be a gangsta
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My daddy was a gangsta
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Gangsta, gangsta
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I wanna be a gangsta
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My daddy was a gangsta
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[Fat Joe]
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Yeah, unh, yo, unh
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Here goes this chick doing ten in the bing
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But 'less we rhyme time we see her do it again
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She started out fuckin dudes that resembled her father
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Mom knew shoulda schooled her but the bitch didn't bother
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You couldn't blame her cuz she got it from her
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She was a rider from jump, her pop's died in the hands of a chump
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Now she's mad at the world, no more daddy's little girl
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Now she's rockin bandanas, no more Shirley Temple girl
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Now she be runnin wit some scramblers that be down in Alabama
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Packin twin hammers, screamin "Life doesn't matter"
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It's a vicious cycle, her game is pretending to like you
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Thinkin you getting head but she's just duckin so they can snipe you
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Movin from state to state, runnin everything from guns to trains
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and pushing packs from eight to eight
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You know I can't say her name but she was a looker
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Pretty thing, such a shame how this life has took her
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Now she's raising hell in the cell, no more his are hollering
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You might suffer the same fate if you repeat the following..
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Sell drugs, use drugs, get caught up in the mix
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End up locked up or dead in a casket, that's it
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[Chorus]
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-----------------
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Gangsta
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Fat Joe |